Flight of the Maven
by RowenWolfyre
Summary: A mysterious shadow haunts Sona's dreams. After an attack in the theatre, Sona is on the run with help from two very unlikely allies: Twisted Fate and Jericho Swain. But her pursuer shows up everywhere she turns. The worst part: they know her etwahl's name. More chapters to follow. 3 Feb 2013: Updating will be slower as I have a lot of research to do. I hope not to be too long.
1. Chapter 1

Sona finished the aria with a final sweet chord. The curtain created a welcome barrier between her and din of the audience, her head reeling from the sheer volume. Backstage provided a silent sanctum in which the beautiful Maven composed herself before facing the loud world once more. A dark shadow caught her eye as it got up from the corner. Its voice was muffled and hoarse.

"Lovely performance. You two make a good team," the shadow said as it approached. Sona took a step back. Then another. And another. "You found a very good hiding place. But it's too late now. I found you." Sona uttered a silent gasp as her etwahl trembled beneath her hand. "Time to die like your sisters did before you, Liliana." The etwhal squealed, loud and out of tune, its beautiful frame twisting before Sona's eyes, the strings snapping as her heart died with the instrument. The world seemed to shatter like a mirror as her vision blurred and faded. The last thing Sona remembered was a desperate voice coming from her hands pleading with her not to let anyone know its name.

Sona awoke screaming silently. The bed sheets twisted around her arms and legs, slamming her head on her bedpost as she struggled. Sona freed herself and ran to her table. Plucking a savory note on the etwahl reassured her that it had all been a dream. Sona blinked and found herself slumped at the table cradling the etwahl with the late morning sun streaming through her open balcony door and the smell of the lunch roast cooking downstairs.

"Look who woke up," Lux taunted as Sona glided into the kitchen half an hour later. Sona grabbed an apple and glided outside. Ignoring Lux was always better than taking the bait. Why Lux hated her so much was beyond her. The etwahl hummed a comforting note as Sona glided toward the rose gardens. The rose gardens provided her with many things: comfort from the flowers, solitude as she was the only person to make use of them, inspiration for new music, a safe haven on a bad day. Sona sat in her usual spot by the fountain. Last night's dream haunted her still. Two questions ran in circles in her mind: who was that shadow and how did that person know her etwahl's name? Sona shook her head to clear it. She couldn't worry about night time fancies when she had a performance in the evening.

The theatre was packed tight. All eyes watched the Maven of the Strings as she played. Swain leaned over to whisper in Katarina's ear. Katarina rolled her eyes. As much as she...admired...Sona's skill, the last thing she wanted was to hear Jericho Swain doting on her as only a fanboy would. Although she had to give him credit. Swain controlled his doting so that it could easily be mistaken for modest respect. Katarina looked at her program. One more song before the night was over. She was anxious to get home. If only this shitastic day could end.

No one saw why Sona suddenly clutched her etwahl to herself and turned her back on the audience. All anyone saw was her robes turning to ribbons and her body collapse. It was five minutes before anyone could comprehend what had just happened enough to react. Swain reached the stage first, issuing orders for someone to call an ambulance. Swain checked for vital signs. Her pulse was weak, but steady. Paramedics arrived within minutes and prepared her for transport. Swain accompanied the gurney as it rolled toward the door.

Sona drifted in a haze. She could hear voices, but they were distant and distorted. Reaching out with her mind, Sona called out. _Protect me. _The fog was disappearing into darkness. _Please. Protect me._ Swain stopped. Had he really heard her speak? No. Her lips did not move. The voice in his head grew fainter as the Maven of the Strings was rolled out to the ambulance. Swain caught Twisted Fate's eye across the aisle. It was clear that they had both heard it.

"Everything alright?" asked Katarina at Swain's shoulder. Swain looked at her and cleared his throat.

"Yes. Let's get you home. Shall we?" Swain offered his best friend's daughter his arm and joined the crowd pushing towards the exit. The feeling that the night was far from over flooded his body. Jericho Swain knew he would be back here tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Swain scoffed as he crossed the police tape and shone his flashlight around. He knew the Demacian chief of police was just as incompetent at her job as the Noxian one. Even with both of them on the case, it would get solved faster if he conducted his own investigation. Swain played the memory in his mind over and over, trying to find a place to start looking for clues. He had not noticed Sona's attack strum as she was turning her back to the audience? No, to the upper stage right wing. Swain crossed the stage and shone his flashlight into the curtains.  
"You really should be more careful, General. I almost mistook you for a police lackey with that flashlight." Twisted Fate said as he went back to examining the small smear of blood on the floor.  
"That's Grand General." Swain replied coarsely. He turned off the flashlight. After a brief pause he said, "Interesting set up. Find anything conclusive?"  
"Only that Sona's attacker is even better at coverin' their tracks than I am." Twisted Fate pulled a small glass vial out of his pocket and scraped some of the congealed blood into it. Extinguishing the candle, he picked up the cards he had used to reflect the candlelight. Swain looked at the vial Twisted Fate handed him.  
"You expect me to process your evidence?" Swain asked nonchalantly.  
"What I expect is for you to use your influence to procure results for our investigation _Grand General._ 'Cause I don't have those kinds of connections." Twisted Fate replied. "And one more thing, no more intimidation tactics between us if we're goin' to help each other." Swain laughed.  
"And what makes you think we're working together?" Swain asked as he composed himself.  
"Amusement. It would be fun watching Sona's number one fan help her number two fan solve the case of who attacked their favorite musician." Twisted Fate smiled as he spoke. Swain stopped short. He had been discreet in his fandom. How could the con man have known? As if in reply to his thoughts, Twisted Fate said, "We both heard her. In our heads. You know we're the only two that could." There was a pause.  
"I'll have results by tomorrow evening. Meet me in my secret lounge by moonrise." Swain finally said after a couple of minutes of silence. "And don't be seen." Twisted Fate gave a small smile and vanished. Swain pocketed the vial and turned to leave. As weary as he was of con men as notorious as Twisted Fate, there was no one else to turn to.


	3. Chapter 3

White mist swirled on the ground. Sona looked around for an indication as to where she was, but found an empty white expanse on all sides. Her left hand tingled from some unseen vibration. An hour might have passed or just a few minutes. Something in the mist caught Sona's eye. Sona glided towards a glitter in the mist. The closer she got, the more defined the glitter became until her etwahl became distinguishable. Sona rushed forward to hug her best friend to her, but passed right through the glittery form.

_There's only two people we can trust _a vaguely familiar voice said in her head. _They're on the bedside table. How are you feeling, dearie?_

That was an odd question. The vibration in Sona's left hand tingled more intensely.

_Wake up. Wake up...wake up...wake...up..._

Sona awoke with a start. An orderly was opening the curtains and talking to her. The short grey curls bounced as the orderly set lunch on the bed's folding table, and raised the bed so that Sona was sitting. Sona's hand stopped tingling as the etwahl's vibrations ceased and the instrument calmed down. The orderly smile and pulled at a loose thread in her apron pocket, while chatting on about how nice it was outside and other things that Sona did not care to listen to. Sona turned her attention instead to the two 'get well' cards on her bedside table.

The first card was a simple one, with a bouquet of white roses and yellow buttercups arranged around a single lily painted on the front. The only peculiar thing was that it was signed "You number one fan" and a soft black down feather where a name ought to be. The other card made her smile. It was a jack of hearts, with the words "Get well soon" scrawled inside a speech bubble. Were these the two people she was supposed to trust?

"Doctor Bartnick, over in cosmetic surgery, keeps ignoring me. I don't see why I waste my time," the orderly rambled on.

Sona put the two cards back on the bedside table and started eating her lunch. She was halfway through her roast beef and mash when she noticed the corner of a card sticking out from under her plate. Sona tucked the card under her pillow as the orderly glanced at the clock and kept on talking.

"There you are, Nurse Flan. We need you in cosmetics."

A man had stuck his head through the door and was beckoning the orderly to hurry up.

"I'll be right there, Joe," Nurse Flan replied. Turning out the door she added: "I'll be back in a little while to collect your tray when you are done."

Sona waited until both footsteps had died around the corner, before pulling the card out from under her pillow. It was a Jack of Clubs. Written around the corner in smudged ink was "Discharge at midnight. Be ready to run."

Sona tucked the card back under the pillow as a comotion in the hall caught her attention. Moments later a woman was rushed into her room, and a dividing curtain was drawn around her bed. A slightly unpleasant odor filled the room. Sona rolled onto her side and tried to ignore it.

Doctors and nurses mumbled technical terms that Sona was in no position to process for some time,. Finally she heard a male voice declare, "Now all we can do is wait and see." Then there was a shuffling out of the room and silence set in for hours afterward.

Midnight approached on swift and silent wings. An orderly in a surgeon mask, closed the door and drew the curtains around her bed. Drawing the curtain for the adjacent bed aside. He set about working the instruments monitoring the sick woman's vital signs. Sona chanced a look and saw that the glazed eyes starting up at the ceiling were empty.

Turning away so as not to vomit, Sona realized that the unpleasant odor she had endured since lunch was the smell of decay. The orderly drew the curtains shut once more. Sona tucked the two cards from the bedside table under her pillow and lay a hand on her etwahl as a bed sheet was drawn over her head. The bed began to move.

It took every effort to keep her breathing calm and shallow to prevent the bed sheet from betraying her escape. The bed could not move fast enough, and the elevator took and age to arrive.

"What have we got here?" said a slow nasally voice.

"Patient from room 213 died five minutes ago. Bringing her to the morgue," replied the orderly.

"The musician?" Sona held her breath. This was it. They were certainly discovered now.

"No. Mrs. Phillips. The comatose patient." Sona lay stock still, fear paralyzing her every muscle. After a few agonizing moments, the elevator opened and her bed rolled down the hallway. Sona caught herself before she could let out a sigh of relief. _It's not over yet, _she reminded herself.

The bed sheet was torn off her so fast, Sona barely had time to grab her cards before the masked orderly was helping her off the bed.

"Grab your instrument and let's go," said the orderly suddenly switching accents from Demacian to Zaunite. The voice pricked her memory. Sona obeyed and watched as the orderly removed contact lenses and stored them in his pocket. He led her to a back door, wrenched it open and ran, keeping a firm grip around her wrist. Terror flooded through Sona once more as a distant alarm sounded behind them.

They ran for what felt like an eternity before the orderly stopped short, causing Sona to run into him. She glanced around in time to notice that an anti-magic field surrounded the hospital, and they had only just breached the barrier. Movement from the orderly drew her attention back to him.

He had drawn a card from what seemed like nowhere. The card spun around them, becoming a blur, and then stopped. Sona leaned into the man still holding her wrist to stop herself from falling as the world spun around her. The environment changed, and a couch seemed to find it's way under her. Sona did not remember laying down or the man letting go of her. Sona's vision steadied in time to see black hair float down to the man's shoulders and a face she had only seen a few times at the Institute of War emerged. He threw the cap and mask into the blazing fireplace, followed by the orderly uniform, fueling the flames.

"Lady luck is smilin' tonight," said the man.

Twisted Fate.

He stood in front of the fire, the glow adding to his already unnaturally magical appearance. Sona's bewilderment was too much to hide. He then took a blanket from the low table between them and covered Sona.

"Sleep for the night," he said with a bemused smile. "Tomorrow we'll explain. You're safe now."

Sona was not sure which was more overwhelming: her relief to be in strange, but safe hands; her unexplained willingness to trust a known criminal; or the exhaustion that was catching up with her from the night's events.

Sleep came fast and dreamless.


	4. Chapter 4

Embers glowed in the fireplace. The midmorning sun shone brightly around the drawn curtains. Sona kept her eyes shut tight for fear that the dream would end and she was still in the hospital. Slowly, she opened her eyes. and the reality of her escape sunk in. Twisted Fate's hat sat on the low table in front of the sofa. A look around the room revealed that Sona was alone. The curtains fluttered in a gentle breeze.

Sona was astounded as she got up from the sofa. Her own face stared down at her from the portrait above the mantel. Framed posters covered every inch of the walls, each one advertising one of her concerts dating as far back as her début at the Demacian Opera House Grand Opening Gala and as recent as her concert two days prior. Sona fondly remembered signing each poster: "To Jerry, Love Sona." Ticket stubs to the corresponding events were displayed in the bottom of each frame.

Several empty frames hung between her solo career and the Pentakill posters, each one signed and with corresponding ticket stubs in its frame, awaiting future concert posters. The Pentakill posters hung over a stairwell. Sona followed the stairs in the left corner from the fireplace to what appeared to be a museum in the lower room.

Bookcases lined the back wall were the fireplace would be upstairs. If she could have, Sona would have gasped at the album collection displayed there. Every record release sat on the shelves in pristine condition and sorted by original release, special edition, collector's edition, her solo career, and Pentakill. Sona turned around and blushed. In glass display classes along the other walls sat all the action figures, dolls, figurines, and toys that Lux so often teased her about.

Light gleamed off two polished door knobs. One door led outside. The second door peeked out from between two display cases. Sona made her way over to it and hesitated, praying silently that this wasn't a candlelit shrine to her. After a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Sona stared at the framed t-shirts from every one of her concerts lining every wall of the two-floor closet. The mannequins modeling replicas of her onstage outfits filled the closet in rows. From the door, Sona could see racks of designer clothes bearing her face, the Pentakill logo, her etwahl, and other such images on the second floor. Hanging from the second floor banister hung duvets, pillow cases, and quilts themed in her music.

Sona glided out of the closet and to the outside door. Her breath left her when she opened the door. The garden was filled with various exotic flowers from all around Valoran, maybe even a few plants from other regions too. Sona was examining a pretty purple blossom that resembled a Ionian Pest Trap when a voice spoke from above her somewhere.

"Ah, you're awake." said the voice.

Turning around, Sona's jaw dropped Jericho Swain stood on a balcony off the room with all the posters. Two ornate columns depicting various animals supported the large balcony creating a patio area under it.

"Please, come join us for a late breakfast." Swain said with a smile.

Sona made her way up to the balcony, pausing in the doorway. Twisted Fate sat opposite Swain sipping from a hip-flask. He looked at home and place all at once, exaggerated by the absence of his hat. Confused, Sona sat down. Reaching out with her , Sona thought _Are these the men who heard me?_

"Yes" replied Twisted Fate.

Sona's eyes snapped from the bowl of cereal Swain was placing in front of her, wild oat and chopped almond with extra creamy milk, to lock with Twisted Fate's.

_But only summoners can hear me,_ thought Sona. Twisted Fate shrugged. After a mouthful of cereal, she thought, _Why you two?_

Swain looked thoughtful as he fought not to choke on his mouthful of cereal in his haste to reply.

"I have a theory," he finally said after a minute or two, "that in your distress, your limited telepathy expanded to the two closest minds in as a defence mechanism so that your plea could be more easily understood by those who heard it."

"And it reached us because the aisle was narrower than the gurney was long when she broadcast her plea." guessed Twisted Fate.

"Exactly." said Swain.

Sona sat for a moment contemplating this. After a few minutes, she thought, _What happens now?_

"Twisted Fate and I are calculating our options based on what evidence we've found. In the meantime, this apartment will be your safe haven.

_Thank you_ was all Sona could manage.

Twisted Fate pulled a bundle from under the table and pushed it toward Sona. She inspected it.

"I stopped by the Institute and got you something to change into." he explained.

Sona unwrapped the bundle to find three of her dresses folded, one of them concealing a breast dagger that would make her already big boobs seem a size bigger. with a faint blush and a small smile, she excused herself from the table and went inside. Twisted Fate unfolded the morning paper.

"Anything important or just idle gossip?" asked Swain nodding toward the newspaper.

"Shortly after our escape, the hospital was attacked." Twisted Fate answered grimmly. "Only two survivors that keep rambling about a living shadow."

"Jarvan III would usually try to this quiet." Swain said with a raised eyebrow in mild surprise.

"I don't think that he can,." said Twisted Fate. " Whoever did this wrote Sona's name in blood on the walls of room two thirteen."

"Significance?" Swain asked after a brief pause.

"That was the room I rescued her from." Twisted Fate replied.

He was standing in a second and left to grab his hat. He returned a minute later.

"I'll go see what I can find at the hospital."

"Make sure you are not seen." Swain warned.

Twisted Fate turned on the spot and disappeared with barely a wave of acknowledgment at the warning.

"Too close for comfort, Beatrice." whispered Swain to his bird, alone on the balcony.

He looked out at the garden wondering how long it would be before the would have to run.


End file.
